


Inside and Out

by chirichiri



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Gen, Oathbringer spoilers, renarin gift-exchange, takes place after OB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chirichiri/pseuds/chirichiri
Summary: Renarin is a hero. But he doesn't know how to respond to all of this sudden fame.





	Inside and Out

In those minutes, when Renarin had sliced off the hand of the thunderclast, helped cripple it, stood over it bursting with Stormlight as its red eyes faded, he had never felt more powerful, useful, strong—more _right_ —in his life.  
Where was that feeling now?

People who had once not-so-secretly mocked and gossiped about the Blackthorn’s failed son behind his back—scholars, lighteyed officers, stormwardens, brightlords and ladies, ardents—now watched him with wariness and respect in their eyes, admiration even. Rather than giggles about his episodes, he heard awed whispers of how he had activated the Oathgate to bring the Windrunner squires to Thaylen City and helped win—or whatever they’d done—the battle against the corrupted Sadeas soldiers.

Foot soldiers, merchants, farmers, all the inhabitants of the Shattered Plains and now Urithiru, they had deferred to him only as a lighteyes of the third dahn, as the second son of Dalinar Kholin. Now they made way for him in the tunnels, bowed their bodies and their heads, murmured words of apology and praise when he passed them by. Going out with Bridge Four one night, he’d seen a group of children—two girls, three boys, of varying ages—acting out the scene of him, Adolin, and the Thaylen Shardbearer slaying the thunderclast as they’d heard it. Two kids had argued over who got to be _him_ , not his brother Adolin, the handsome firstborn son, a general and dueling champion. Him, Renarin. Renarin Kholin. Him.

Renarin didn’t know what to do, how to act, how to smile and exchange pleasant lines of dialogue in a conversation. He didn’t know how to _walk through the market_ anymore, not with those eyes—always those eyes—adoring him from every side.

He didn’t know what to do, because he knew he didn’t have to do anything. It was all going to crash down on him. After all, whenever he tried to do anything right, it always went _wrong_. Galloping out on the chasmfiend hunt to save his father. Failure. Entering the dueling arena to save his brother. Failure. Warning the arrival of the Everstorm, then the fight on the Tower during the two storms. Failure failure failure. Renarin _always_ failed. He would fail to be a Knight Radiant as well. History had repeated itself enough times for Renarin.

And, as always, there was Glys.

“I’m going to fail you too, aren’t I,” Renarin whispered, leaning against the railing of a balcony overlooking one of the plots of fields that were supposed to grow crops. A few hopeless farmers scratched at it now, likely shivering and grumbling in the cold wind. Renarin himself felt the chill without his coat, which he’d laid across the railing, but he didn’t put it on. The Bridge Four patch on the sleeve seemed to be staring at him.

“No,” Glys replied from somewhere behind him. “We won the fight?”

“Sure, we survived the battle,” Renarin said. “But it’s this one, the one we’re fighting right now, that I’m worried about.” Those eyes. They’d judged him, mocked him, once. Why did he so desperately wish they did now?

Glys didn’t reply. Maybe he was as confused as Renarin felt himself.

 _Moldy crem, what a mood_ , Renarin thought. _Confused by your own storming self._  
Why couldn’t he be more like Adolin?

As if summoned, his brother called from behind, “Hey, Rin.”

Renarin hunched over the railing.

“Took me a while to find you,” Adolin said, footsteps announcing his approach. “Father wants another Radiant meeting. Why’d you come out here?”

Renarin took a deep breath. “Please leave me alone,” he said quietly, even as his mind screamed for Adolin to never leave him. “I . . . I need some quiet.” _I need your voice._

Adolin came up on Renarin’s right side. His brother leaned against the railing, just like him, the Kholin blue coat between them. “You sure?” he finally asked. “Because Lopen told me another inappropriate story, and I know for a fact Captain Grumps himself turns red at it.” He nudged Renarin with his elbow. “We could probably get through half of it at the meeting before Father threw us out.” He grinned.

Renarin couldn’t grin back. “I can’t,” he whispered. “Not anymore.” That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He didn’t care about Lopen’s story, or the meeting, or his father right now. He’d meant to tell Adolin about the eyes, about the whispering, about his feelings, but the words didn’t come out. Why didn’t they ever come out?

Somehow, as always, Adolin still understood. He nodded, eyes wandering the level below, probably taking note of all the best places to attack an enemy or to stand against one, or how he would arrange his troops or send civilians away. Renarin would never do that, lead an army. Not again. “Did I ever tell you the story,” he began slowly, gaze settling on a farmer, “of my first duel?”

“No, not once.”

“Well, as the young boy I was, I—”

“Not once, but maybe a couple dozen or hundred times, about as often as you admire Shallan or confess your love of her to me.”

Adolin barked a laugh, and Renarin’s mouth twitched. “Yes, she is wonderful, isn’t she?” His eyes glazed dreamily as a dopey grin spread across his face.

Renarin rolled his eyes, but smiled. When he’d heard his big brother had let himself be betrothed to some rural Veden girl, he hadn’t believed it. But Renarin had cried at their wedding, so he couldn’t tease Adolin so much anymore.

Maybe that was the secret to succeeding at life. Girls. Father had Aunt Navani, Adolin had Shallan now, Rock had his wife and family, and even though he seemed oblivious to it, Kaladin had brightladies eyeing him at every meeting and darkeyes chattering excitedly whenever he passed through a market. Renarin wondered if now, after Thaylen City, he could get a date. They could try out wines together, she could play pretty music, he could confess he knew how to read and she’d be fine—no, happy—with it, and then maybe—

_It won’t take long for her to discover you’re a fraud, a failure, a weakling, a coward. Nothing like Bridge Four, or Adolin, or Dalinar, Jasnah, Navani . . ._

Renarin hunched over the railing, burying his chin into his folded arms, trying to stay warm from the coldness within him.  
Adolin placed a hand on his shoulder. Renarin tensed at the contact, a thousand thoughts and feelings of _no_ rampaging in his mind, even as _yes yes yes_ fought against it.

“Rin,” Adolin said softly. “What’s wrong?”

So many things to say, so few he could actually speak. Why was everything so wrong—with _him_?

Adolin rubbed Renarin’s back gently in small circles, starting at his shoulder and gradually moving to the other, then down a little, and then back up. Renarin shuddered at it first, then oddly found himself relaxing, a few of his chaotic thoughts slipping away. The rubbing, Adolin’s firm callused hand, his brother himself—all of it, so good.

“Renarin,” Adolin whispered, just for him. “It’s alright.”

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Me,” he choked out, throwing off Adolin’s arm and shoving off the railing. He faced his brother, anger and sadness and fear, _so much fear_ , churning inside him and demanding to be let _out_. “It’s _me_ , Adolin. Me. _I’m_ the problem, _I’m_ what’s wrong.”  
Adolin opened his mouth slightly, but Renarin couldn’t be held back any longer.

“I keep _failing_. Every storming time. Whenever I try anything, I make things worse. I’m weak and wrong and bad and _failing so much_ and . . . and . . . _and_.” Renarin hung his head, unable to meet his brother’s gaze. “And I’m so scared, Adolin. So, so scared that I’ll never be good, never stop failing.” He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in the frigid wind. “So scared.”

“Renarin. Because of you, Father knew to go out on the Shattered Plains. You discovered the gems in the tower. You fought against the Unmade. You saved my life. You slew a thunderclast. You activated the Oathgate. You are _not a failure_.”

Renarin looked up, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I am,” he croaked. “Maybe I did those things, but it won’t _last_.” He shook his head, the pain inside hurting worse. He sank to the balcony floor from the weight of it, rocking back and forth as if the simple motion could banish it. “Nothing, _nothing_ ever does. I’m going to mess up again and again and one day it’ll get you and Father and Jasnah all killed. _All_ of you. Dead.” Renarin had seen it, in his visions, but he knew he couldn’t trust even those now. He could never trust himself.

His brother slowly lowered himself next to Renarin, knees pulled up similarly. “Failure,” Adolin said, “is what makes us good.”

Renarin shook his head, still rocking. “You’re wrong.”

Adolin stretched his arm across Renarin’s shoulders, shocking him from his rocking. “I’m not,” he said, smiling softly. “Surely you know the older brother never is.”

“You can too,” Renarin snapped, angry at how his entire body stiffened against Adolin’s arm on him, yet craved it at the same time. “You were wrong about Kaladin, about Father during his first visions, and in _every single girl_ you ever courted before Shallan, and—”

“And all of those wrongs, those _failures_ , have helped make me who I am today.” He smiled at Renarin, obviously proud of how he’d trapped him. He scowled at Adolin’s smile, even as he spotted the tenderness and love in it. _He actually loves me_ , Renarin realized. _How? Why?_

Adolin sighed happily, stretching out his legs and leaning against the railing. “If you truly have heard the story of my first duel so many times, then you must remember how awfully I failed that day. And yet I still consider it—”

“— to be one of your _greatest_ learning experiences,” Renarin finished. “I _know_.”

Adolin smiled proudly. “Exactly. So, see, we learn from our mistakes.”

“And what if those mistakes are more than just an error?” Renarin asked quietly, tightening the grip his arms had around his knees. “What if those mistakes have consequences that can affect _everything_?”

“Then we’ll find a way to _fix_ it, Rin. You, and me. Together.” Adolin squeezed Renarin’s shoulders. “Believe me. I mean, we did it with the thunderclast. You only took it down once I softened it up, after all . . .”

Renarin sighed, releasing his legs so they could stretch out like his brother’s. He leaned back, squashing Adolin’s arm against the railing, though it made him squirm mentally. _Just pretend he’s giving you that backrub again_ , he told himself. _This is nice_.  
“It’s stone,” he finally told Adolin. “That's easy in comparison to softening up your thick skull.”

Adolin laughed, his body shaking with it and shaking Renarin’s too. It wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d thought it would be, and he smiled a little. _This is nice_ , he thought, and this time it wasn’t so much a lie.

“Wit’s right about you, little bro,” Adolin said. “You’re made of strong stuff. Too many people take you for granted, including yourself.”

Renarin cocked his head, awkward as it was against the railing and Adolin’s arm. He’d never considered that before. It had always been about everyone else. _They_ had told him not to fight, _they_ had said he was weak, _their_ eyes had stared and criticized. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to tell that to himself, to view himself as worthless.

“I love you, Renarin,” Adolin told him, giving his shoulders another little squeeze.

Renarin wasn’t quite sure how he felt about those words, especially when he remembered the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. But maybe, like Adolin’s arm around his shoulders, he just wasn’t quite used to them yet. Maybe just because it was unfamiliar didn’t make it wrong or bad or incorrect. Maybe he could learn to like those words, like himself, and learn to ignore those judging eyes.

“I promise, little bro, no matter what’s thrown at us, or how badly you or I mess up, we’ll fix it, learn from it, and make less stupid mistakes next time.” He paused. “And, you know, all those failures you rattled off about me, and all the others you didn’t say? _You_ came to save me each time, so there’s proof of what I said.”

“Rarely worked,” Renarin muttered. “I failed.”

“But we were failing together. And that’s what matters.”

Renarin twisted his lips, still unsure. _Maybe it’s fine to not know everything_ , he thought. The visions of Jasnah killing him and Dalinar becoming Odium’s servant had been wrong. He hadn’t _known_ known they would or wouldn’t happen. And that had been good. _Maybe it’s fine._

He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Alright.” He forced the word out, awkwardly, but he _got it out_.

Adolin smiled and pulled himself to his feet, helping Renarin up afterward. Renarin slouched in the cold, a little embarrassed, still scared, but feeling much more _right_. Adolin handed him his coat. He paused, looking at the Bridge Four symbol, then pulled it on.

But it was his brother’s presence, walking beside him in the hallways of Urithiru, not the coat, that kept him warm, inside and out. It was a feeling better even than that moment he'd killed the thunderclast.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for the Renarin gift-exchange! This fic is for pisoprano on Tumblr.


End file.
